Who is she?
I wish that I knew;
I don't recall a plunge or a leap
I only remember being embraced by the warm earth
Then watching myself leave and blossom
Holding out my heart but clutching it tight
In white but blood stained hands

What am I now
I might never know
Will you pluck my pods?
How will that feel?
I can't say if I'll wilt beneath your touch
Or if I'll thrive
If I'll sweeten the pot
Or spice it up.

A great succinct little poem. I too loved the concept and I started thinking about the different ways love goes: how sometimes slow cooked so that the flavors coalesce, how sometimes seared so that you get that immediate burst of it.

yes...this is lovely. Playful and provocative. Enjoyed.

I do wonder about this line here: Holding out my heard but clutching it tight

mainly to avoid using two 'buts' in such close proximity. I might suggest: